A Twist to the Story
by Illa Darling
Summary: In which the author uses the common what-if phrase. What if instead of Valjean staying and rescuing Marius, he leaves with Cosette to sail across the sea? What will happen the rest? Will Marius fall with his friends? Will Eponine get shot at the barricade? Hope you enjoy! :D
1. Sympathy and Sadness

**Oki-doki! My next fanfic to keep me occupied when I'm not doing anything! Little bits of romance, lots of drama, and, well, a whole lot of 'what if's?'. Beware—I'll try to write as much as I can, but there are times when I can lag. I'm not yet certain where this plot is going, but hopefully it will turn out alright. (Hey, I only write outlines for school stuff! :D) **

**Hope you enjoy! Your humble servant, etc. **

Chapter One

Marius mourned. What else was there to do? His heavenly Lark was gone, and with her had flown all that was meaningful in his life. He was never hungry—food was distasteful to him. He took no pleasure in visiting the ABC café and its revolutionary students. Beautiful things were, in his eyes, no longer beautiful. _Meaningless! Meaningless! Life was meaningless!_ cried his soul. And so he mourned.

When a man believes there is no purpose in life, he comes upon two choices. The first is to live. But living without a purpose is quite different from living with one. So when the man decides to choose this life, he is accepting a life of pleasure that offers no satisfaction, of sorrows that come to nothing. The other choice is eternal blackness—in short, death. If life is meaningless, there can be no point in living. That is quite simple.

Marius had this perspective in mind; he decided that life without Cosette meant nothing at all and that there was no use in living when the world was so distasteful in his sight. Then was brought the decision of how he should come to this end. Well! That was simple. He would pay his revolutionary friends a visit.

With this plan firm upon his mind, Marius left his room in a state of disorder, and as he entered the streets, many a person did stare and shake their heads as they saw a young man, hair disheveled and eyes aflame with a desperate passion which made more than one shudder.

He did not see their stares.

Someone joined him in his walk. It was Eponine. He payed no attention.

"Monsieur?"

He did not answer.

She looked at him intently before saying quietly, "How sad he is! If only…" The thoughtful attitude in which she spoke, as if she had been alone, caused Marius to look up:

"If only?"

"It is nothing."

They walked in silence; the girl continued to watch him keenly. There was something in his dejected, reckless manner that seemed to fill her with wonder. Suddenly she started.

"Oh!"

"What is it?" he asked without curiousity.

She looked at him with something that resembled a wild, alarmed gaze and did not answer, which only resulted in annoying her companion.

"Well! Don't tell me then! There is no use anyway. Meaningless!" cried the young man with a passionate despair that seemed to frighten her even more.

"Where are you going?"

"To the ABC café."

"Why?" and then after a pause, "they are not there anymore, monsieur."

He stopped walking. "What! And where have they gone then?"

"Do you really want to know?" she asked sadly.

"Yes!"

There was an unmistakable reluctance as the young gamine led the way to the barricade.

…

"Eponine! Say, what's a pretty girl like you doing here in this dangerous place, eh?"

"Grantaire!" was the irritated, whispered reply, as the girl tried to silence him with a quick movement of her finger to her lips. He only laughed louder.

"Really, 'Ponine, you shouldn't be here," said he, only slightly more serious.

"Why not? Monsieur Marius is here, so why shouldn't I be?" retorted the bold girl.

"Everyone knows that fool is only looking for a way to get himself killed," was the irritated answer, followed by a sharp laugh.

She turned to look at him closely. "Well! You aren't drunk!" said she with some surprise.

"What's that to you?"

She answered with a shrug of her thin shoulders. "I'll be going then. Good luck to you, Grantaire!" She nodded and began to walk away, but Grantaire sighed and caught her hand before she could slip away.

"Go back to your home, Eponine! It's not safe for women here!"

"Like I said, I'm not going."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

They looked at each other angrily, resembling more of a pair of stubborn, little miscreants than a drunk skeptic and a misfortunate lover. Before Grantaire could argue with her, Eponine's sharp eye caught sight of Marius wandering around the barricade and she was gone before the sober drunkard could stop her.

Marius looked more alive and more reckless than ever, but at least he was aware of her. "Eponine! What are you doing here? Oh, now I remember. It was you who brought me here, wasn't it? Well! Get out before the shooting starts!"

He did not see her smile in pleasure, nor hear her happy remarks, for an idea began creeping slowly upon him, and he grasped her hand and cried:

"Oh! Now I know you are heaven sent! Here, give this letter to Cosette. Hopefully she is still there! Pray that she will be there, 'Ponine!" With that, he handed the parchment and ran away, clasping his breast in a passion and leaving a mournful Eponine behind him.

"Well?"

"Oh! It's only you, Grantaire."

"Well?" he asked persistently.

"Well what?"

"Will you give the letter to his beloved?"

"Yes," sighed she, "I suppose I must. But how can I? No, he will not know if I tear the letter to pieces—he will be dead, and so will I—"

"Eponine!" began Grantaire indignantly.

She continued as if she had not heard a thing, "And Cosette will leave and never return, so they will be better without additional sorrow. But how can I do such a terrible thing? It is terrible isn't it? Yes, and you know it! I will do it for him." There was another sigh at the end of this burst which seemed to have come from an internal struggle.

"So you will do it?"

"Yes." A tear and one more little sigh escaped her, and she looked at Grantaire apprehensively; he seemed occupied with something on the floor, and she took the opportunity to swiftly wipe the tear away with her dirty sleeve. "Well, goodbye Grantaire. Be careful," and she hurried away to complete her errand.

…

Grantaire watched her go with a somewhat melancholy air. "Poor girl," he muttered to himself, his eyes remaining fixed upon the place she had stood last.

The drunkard had known Eponine ever since the young girl had moved with her family, the Thenardiers, to Paris. They both knew what it meant to love without being loved, though their loves were quite different—Grantaire's being his admiration in the revolutionary leader's determination and certainty. What contrasted strongly between the two friends, as one might as well term them, was that while Grantaire drowned his sorrows in drinking, Eponine suffered without any sort of consolation.

But their similarities being quite dominant, the two struck up a friendship at once, though Eponine did not approve of the young man's methods of comfort.

Having known the young Thenardier girl for many years, Grantaire was a witness of the transformation Eponine underwent once she met Monsieur Marius. He observed first the happiness the meeting brought, the high spirits and cheerful manner in which she told him of her new friend, and then the great depression and misery that was synchronous with the arrival of Cosette into Marius's life.

Grantaire, knowing himself the nature of this grief, pitied Eponine. And when he whispered to himself, "Poor girl,", the words were filled with all the genuine compassion the sober drunkard could offer.


	2. New Possibilities

**Sorry for writing such a short chapter. I'll try making the next one longer. Well, the weekend's coming, so I'll have more time to write. Much thanks for the reviews, dear readers! If my story brightened your day, your review surely brightened mine! About that Enjolras/Eponine thing, it's really not a bad idea. I'll have to think how that will happen, though, but thanks for the suggestion! Hope you enjoy! **

Chapter Two

The sun was just below the horizon, and the soft dusky light of twilight slowly dissolved into shadow. Eponine slowly made her way to the Rue Plumet, a furious struggle shining through her shaded eyes. She had resolved to give the letter—it was decided. And yet how sharp the anguish felt as she imagined how happy Cosette would be to read it!

Time, how cruel you are, stealing away happier days and reveling in painful ironies!

To think of _her_ face, pretty and shining, and _his_ when he heard of Cosette—the poor gamine prepared herself for the torment awaiting her. She knew she had no choice: Monsieur Marius had asked her. Perhaps he had only sent her away to keep her from danger? But no! Nothing could comfort her troubled mind. This struggle continued within the young Thenardier until finally she reached the Rue Plumet.

There seemed something desolate and lonely in the house as she came nearer to the gate. She looked inside and saw the garden that had once seemed both a beautiful dream and a painful memory, though to different persons. Now the very flowers were crying, "Water! Water!" and the mournful expression in the grave statues was saying, "Deserted! We are alone!"

Eponine seemed to be gathering her courage and will together as she stepped softly forward and said in so low a voice,

"Hello?"

There was no answer.

Moving a step closer, she tried again: "Monsieur? Mademoiselle Cosette?"

Eponine heard the door open and caught sight of an old man stepping out and coming towards her in the dark. It was not Cosette's father.

"Who is it that speaks?" came the man's voice in the darkness.

"I have a message for the mademoiselle of the house."

"Pardon, but there is no one living here."

"When did the gentleman and his daughter go?"

An old, wrinkled face appeared at the gate. He looked at her before replying, "I was given directions not to give any information concerning that to certain people. Who are you, mademoiselle?"

"My name is Eponine. I have a friend who knows Cosette."

A frown deepened the lines on his forehead. "Well, monsieur did not mention that name. If you must know, then, they left yesterday."

"Where?" she pressed eagerly.

"To Calais. I believe the purpose was to travel overseas, mademoiselle."

There was a pause. "Thank you." She turned and made to go to the barricade, but the man stopped her, saying gently,

"Is there anything else I can do for you? Surely you must want something to eat, or some money, p'raps?"

"No thank you, monsieur. What you have said is enough for me!" And beyond a doubt that was true, for nothing could make the young Eponine happier than the news of the departure. Poor child! She knew not what lay ahead of her, and thought only of her chances for happiness, which, though to her seemed like streams of light, were actually dwindling to shattered hopes.


	3. Bitter Tidings

**Here we go! Another chapter! Hope you enjoy and thanks for the reviews! :D Sorry for another short chapter. Longer ones shall come!**

Chapter Three

Grantaire watched as his leader took long, impatient strides around the bench. Enjolras paced restlessly around the bench like a fierce lion anxious to fight. He would sit down, burying his hands in his thick, dark hair; but the next moment, he was up and pacing once more.

"Tiring yourself out won't help prepare you for tomorrow."

Enjolras continued his restless exercise.

"Are you so eager to see your friends die?"

The walking ceased—"I am eager to see justice done! And they are, too!" said he, eyes flashing. Then scornfully: "They all understand, but perhaps you don't."

Grantaire's eyes hardened and his hands trembled—his deep voice was quiet and bitter as he answered, "No, I don't. There is no light. I am blind and will always live in the dark." He stood up, waiting for no reply, and disappeared into the soft, black night, leaving his companion alone with his thoughts.

…

A moment later, Enjolras heard footsteps approaching. Voices reached his keen ear in the dark. The first was low: it was Marius Pontmercy.

"Eponine! Did you give the letter?"

"Yes—no."

"No? What do you mean?"

"She was not there. No one was there, monsieur. They were gone."

"Gone!"

"Yes."

"And where did they go? Do you know where they went?"

"To Calais. An old man there told me."

"Calais!" Marius uttered a despairing cry and a thud reached Enjolras's hearing. The boy, in his misery, had dropped to his knees.

"Monsieur Marius! Stand up, monsieur!" came the voice of the girl—Eponine.

"Leave me be, 'Ponine," said Marius softly. "You are a good friend. Leave me be."

"No! What will you do?"

"Cosette is gone. What else is there to do?"

Eponine's voice was both frightened and fierce. "You will not do this, monsieur! Forget this foolishness and stand up! Do not tortue yourself so!"

"She is a good friend," murmured Marius. "She will understand."

Enjolras could take it no more. He wanted peace—quiet.

"Leave the boy," said he to the girl. He could see her clearly now: the tall, thin figure hidden in a man's coat; the dark brown eyes looking at him with sad knowledge that spoke of happy times, beauty, and horrible tragedy. She was that stranger who frequented the ABC café. "Leave the boy," said he, "He does not even know you are there."

"Yes," replied the girl sadly, "and he never will." She stood up slowly and nodded to Enjolras. Then she walked away, leaving Marius' anguished cries behind.

As for Enjolras, he thought nothing of the matter, for a time.


	4. A Gathering and a Bullet

**Hey dear readers! Here's the next chapter. Please note that Eponine's death won't be in the first attack. Really hope you enjoy and approve! :D By the way, does anyone else think Ramin is perfect for Enjolras and he should have been in the movie? Just wondering… **

Chapter Four

Eponine lay hidden in the darkness, her mournful eyes raised to the moonless sky. She sat with her head tilted at an angle—she heard the students of the revolution gathered together to reminisce in days gone by.

The young men would both laugh and weep, recall better days and regret mistakes. They laughed as if they did not care what tomorrow would bring, but they also wept for their families, for their beloved, and for their country. Sorrowful tears were shed that night by many a man—none ashamed to show that they were, indeed, still little boys dreading death. And yet they did not give in to their fear, for everyone feels fear. The true heroes were those who overcame it. So through tears their eyes flashed, threatening and courageous, and through mourning, there came triumph.

In all this, Eponine lay silent and motionless, so that a person who might see her would not know if she was reminiscing as well or really listening.

The first fight had lifted the men's spirits. They had stood firm throughout the battle, firm through the shower of relentless firing. None of the students had fallen, and hopes were high. While the men rejoiced and Enjolras warned them of a second attack, Monsieur Marius despaired. Why would death not come to him, when he welcomed it with open arms?

The men were starting to scatter from the gathering. Enjolras prepared himself for a long night awake, until Monsieur Joly came to take over and his shift ended. He walked to and fro, watching as the men settled down to sleep on the hard floors of their beloved barricade. Marius was tossing around, mumbling something in his sleep.

So Enjolras continued his walk, rounding a rather shadowy corner. Suddenly a sound of shuffling and a sharp gasp came from beneath him. He stooped down and saw in the darkness two eyes shining at him. Through the darkness the revolutionary leader could see it was a girl.

"Pardon, mademoiselle!"

"I am fine." She tried sitting up but Enjolras realized there was something wrong.

"You are hurt!" He knelt down quickly but she tried pushing him away.

"It is nothing, really," said she, giving him a sickly smile. "See, I can sit up! I am fine!"

But clearly she was not. There was something wet on his hands as he tried lifting her. "I must call for help," he murmured.

"No!" she said quickly. "No, do not wake them."

"What shall I do then!" asked the other impatiently.

"Marius," said she, her voice low and indistinct. "Marius." And then the girl was lost in the darkness.


	5. A Wound Deeper Than A Wound

Chapter Five

The shouting of men filled the air. Night had stirred, yawning and creeping out quietly, and with her had come the National guard's cry:

"You have no chance! No chance at all! Why throw your lives away?"

But he was answered with shouts of refusal, willful and brave, for the hearts of the young men were like hardened iron, set firm over the cause of justice. In return a thunder of gunfire rumbled across the country as all of France watched with eager eyes the poor yet determined boys who fought hard and bravely but fought alone.

Such was the night that Eponine opened her eyes and shivered. It was dark; she seemed to be lying in a little sheltered building that used to be a wineshop. The small structure would shake with the dust at each thundering roar of the cannon and Eponine had to cover her ears at every blow.

She wondered where Marius was—and what had become of that Enjolras and his men. They were still fighting… perhaps she could find Marius in time. Oh! How she hoped! If she had only been more careful and kept away from that bullet! But it had to be done…

Well, that was all over, and now she could find Marius! With this intention she tried to stand up, but a pain shot through her back and she fell back, clutching her wound and shaking. Something creaked and she sat up with a start, fear quenching the feeling of pain that sprung up once more. Looking around, she discerned in the darkness a figure of a man lying down on the floor, hands tied and mouth covered. His eyes were opened and as a spark of the cannon flashed outside, she saw his face—it was Inspector Javert.

He looked at her with obvious disdain and anger. His very eyes seemed to be threatening her with their indifference. The change in their expression was so great then, when with an effort she stood up, took a knife from her skirt and cut away the ropes.

Eponine had never been kind. Her life prevented her from ever knowing what kindness even was. But the nearness of death that she had come so close to, as well as the fear for Marius' life, made her realize how frightening death really was. Though she knew mankind would have no choice but to face it one day, she knew that this man's time had not yet come. As much as she hated the police, she would not be responsible for Inspector Javert's murder. And so she cut the ropes.

Surprise was his first reaction. Confusion comes after, and with it, anger. Javert's pride had been shattered—this girl was with the rebels, and that wound of dignity was still fresh. He stood up quickly and, eyes flashing with irritable perplexion, he said:

"Why did you do that?"

"I saved your life, Inspector. You can at least thank me."

"I will thank you when I bring you to the prison's gates!" He was in front of her in two long strides, taking the knife away with ease and forcing her to stand up. Again he was astonished. For no sooner had she stood on her feet than she was down again, her face twisted with pain. She cried out as she fell and the Inspector heard a door creak open. Without another word he let her go and rushed outside, pushing aside the man who had entered.

It was Enjolras. His face was sweaty and covered with dirt, but she could still see his clear blue eyes as they looked at her. Then she realized why he was bending. Leaning on his arm was another man, moaning with pain.

"I beg your pardon, mademoiselle, but will you please help me?"

"Of course!" Eponine stumbled forward, still grasping her wound, and helped him to slowly lay the young man on the floor.

"Who is he?" asked the girl.

He looked at her before answering quietly, "Marius."

Eponine gave a cry and fell to the floor, looking at the unconscious man surrounded by a dark pool of blood. She tried bandaging the wound on his shoulder, trying, with shaking hands, to wrap her own coat around him. Eponine no longer felt the pain in her back, for the pain and anxiety in her heart was worse. It was a pathetic yet heart-moving scene—the young, wounded girl struggling to save the life of another injured man, unconscious of her own pain: a pain that went deeper than that of actual wound, deep into the love that she had given so willingly and the hurt when it was so thoughtlessly rejected.

And Enjolras stood motionless and watching.

When the girl turned around, the rebellion leader had disappeared. There they stayed, Eponine and her beloved, both of them wounded and just as helpless as the people of France thought themselves to be on that cold dark night in Paris.

**Ah! Finished with another chapter! Sorry for taking so long! A rather busy week this one was. Hope you enjoyed! The next chapter's soon to come! Oh, and please don't ask me why Eponine carries a knife with her all the time… :D **


	6. A Favor Returned

Chapter Six

Grantaire watched as around him the beloved friends he had known almost all of his life died. He watched as Enjolras refused to yield to Death, who hovered happily and content around the fallen. He watched as one of the guards raised his rifle towards the fierce leader. And he watched himself rush towards Enjolras with no thought but to keep Death from his final satisfaction.

He also watched with some curiousity as Enjolras's face, full of pain and grief, began to blur into a haze before finally disappearing. The words, sorrowful and guilty, reached his ears: "Forgive me, Grantaire, my friend!"

Enjolras, jaw clenched and eyes wandering wildly, saw his comrades dying—it was his turn to see the life slowly departing in the men surrounding him. His friends—his brothers.

…

Eponine felt her thin arms and shoulders ache. Her legs were close to stumbling—she dragged herself forward, breathing heavily and ready to drop and never rise again. Yet she pressed on, bringing an unconscious Marius with her, and not a single thought to abandon her heavy burden occurred to her. Alone in the darkness, she made her way farther and farther away from the deafening noise of gunshots.

She thought she was alone. She was wrong.

"Stop! Don't move another foot!"

Eponine felt as if her last hope was crumbling before her. _Forgive me, Marius, I have failed you,_ she thought, _But at least I can die trying. _With this thought she said quickly,

"Let this man go! I am the Thendardier daughter—I am the one you want! Let him go!"

Inspector Javert, for it was he who had spoken, looked at her contemptuously. "And what will I do with a dying man? No, it is better to keep him from suffering longer."

"No! No! Please! He is innocent! I will bring him to his uncle—yes! He has family! Let me take him to them first!"

"I have seen you before."

_Lord, have mercy on Monsieur Marius and me! _thought Eponine, surrendering.

"You are that girl at the barricade."

"Yes, monsieur."

"You let me go. And I told you I would bring you to prison."

She did not answer.

She waited for the scornful flash of triumph in his eyes to appear, but there was none. Only a silent brooding glow of his dark eyes.

"Go."

"Monsieur?" said she, confused.

"Are you a dim-wit? I said go!"

"Thank you, Inspector! Thank you!" she cried, ready to laugh and praise God, without even feeling the pain in her back and the ache of her feet and shoulders. Daring to joyfully press his hand, ever so lightly, she thanked him with the gratitude in her voice and eyes before dragging herself forward once more.

He watched her, the silent, brooding glow still present. "Now I owe you nothing," said he quietly.

**Just so that you know, dear Enjolras will still open his eyes to many suns and moons… Yeah, well,that's all. Hope you enjoyed and more chapters to come! Although since a new week is starting, my writing won't be very consistent. :D Ah! I love Fiddler on the Roof. Of course, LesMis is my favorite, and then the POTO, and then… So much musicals! **


	7. A Sorrowful Depart and a Promise

**Sorry for taking so long to write! Here's another one and hope you enjoy! **

Chapter Seven

Watching the young man sleeping fitfully, Eponine thought about the many lives that were lost that night. What had happened to the little Gavroche of the revolution? And the rebel leader? As she pondered over these things, she mourned for the poor young men, while rejoicing that her beloved Marius was safe from death. But what of Grantaire?

Remembering her close friend, she chastised herself for even forgetting and hoped that he was not among the misfortunate dead. But hoping was not enough for Eponine. The few times she fell asleep, she saw his face, mournful and dark, in her nightmares. Worry seeped into her mind as guilt penetrated her soul. How could she have forgotten him?

But this was not the only reason for the guilt she felt. Enjolras, that fierce roaring lion of the revolution—she had left him as well. Had he not saved Marius? Eponine made an unsuccessful attempt to push away the thought and instead say to herself, "None of that, Ponine! He did not save him for your sake. Obligation! Yes!" But all to no avail. She knew what must be done. She must find the both of them, dead or alive. As long as Marius was safe!

…

She left him sleeping in his little room with the hopes that he would remain in the same position when she came back. "Keep safe, Monsieur Marius," whispered the girl before disappearing once more into the darkness.

…

Under cover of the black night, Inspector Javert hovered over the revolutionary's sons, all who lay mournful yet triumphant in their sleep. He recognized them. Young men who had given their lives to the ideas of liberty and equality! Such ideas!

He hovered like a predator searching for his prey.

Something moved in the darkness. Javert turned but saw nothing. He continued his walk warily, yet no signs of fear or suspicion were betrayed upon his cold and impassive mask.

When the inspector had made his leave, something did move in the dark, a shadowy figure of a girl. It was the Thenardier girl.

"Eponine!"

The voice was low and hoarse. The girl knelt down quickly and saw in the obscurity a man lying on the ground. It was Grantaire.

"Grantaire!"

"It is you, 'Ponine! I thought so. I was lying still as a stone when that pompous inspector made his rounds here."

"Never mind him. Let's get you out of here," said she, endeavoring to lift him up.

Grantaire let out a sigh that resembled a suppressed groan. "It is no use! Let me be! Take care! The inspector might come back. Have you seen Enjolras? He was here, you know, fighting like a valiant lion! I saw him, but that blasted bullet! It would have shot him you know. But I stopped it."

A tear fell down the girl's cheek, shimmering as it dropped. "Yes, you were a hero," she answered softly, trying stiffly to hide the tears that followed.

"It is no use," he said again, sighing. "But where is Enjolras? Do you know, if it hadn't been for you, Enjolras would've been dead! Don't deny it; I saw you. You stopped that bullet from hitting me, didn't you? And then I stopped one from hitting him." Grantaire laughed. "It's funny thinking I'll never get to drink anymore."

Eponine smiled through her tears. "There'll be nothing to drink for, where you're going!"

"I suppose you're right. But where is Enjolras? Ah, I know. He is over there," said he, pointing across to where a wheel-barrow lay broken. "Get him, for me, Eponine. Take him away from here."

"No, I have to take you!"

"There's no use, I told you."

"Please!" cried the girl, "Please let me try!"

"You know Enjolras saved that boy for you. You know it, don't you?" said Grantaire quietly.

She did not answer.

"Remember when we were young and didn't care about anyone? What children we were! And what rascals! You're father wouldn't let me play with you, remember? But that didn't stop us! And when we played in the streets! Ha! Poor old Amelie! She never did find her sewing work again, did she?" And then, more softly, as if his spirit was already quietly departing, he said, looking up at her with his dark eyes, "Take care of him, 'Ponine! And take care of yourself!"

He was gone. Eponine bent down and closed his eyes, murmuring a solemn prayer for him. Then she stood up and headed for the wheel barrow.


	8. Mercy

**Phew! A whole week without school! I expect many chapters to come! Anyway, sorry for taking so long to write and thank you so much for all the reviews! Haha, I definitely never tire of them! :D Hope you enjoy! **

Chapter Eight

Eponine saw him, eyes closed and chest heaving slow, uneven breaths. The wheelbarrow of which Grantaire had spoken was broken and had fallen, heavy limbs and all, over the conquered leader. If it had not been for the slight breathing, the gamine would have thought him asleep forever—the still expression lingering over his face was not anguish, or guilt, or even broken pride, and yet, they were all there. His youthful face showed lines of weariness, and even his very clothes, now only tatters, were dull and dirty.

Wrapped around his waist were the colors of red and blue and white, once brilliant and inspiring—now they were the ripped, faded rags which clothed the beggars of the street. Yes, they had once been the colors of the people, the hope that shone in the dark! Now that very light seemed dim in a never-ending night.

Eponine advanced, with a soft, hesitating, "Monsieur?"

He did not stir.

"Monsieur Enjolras?" She knelt down and touched his shoulder gently. The slow breaths continued. "Monsieur, you must wake up!" The girl gave a sound like a grunt and succeeded in pushing away the wheelbarrow, but it fell with a crash.

Eponine's thin figure stiffened and with the swift glances and quiet motion of a frightened deer, she knelt down by his side once more and looked around her. She was alone.

Reassured, she touched Enjolras' shoulder gently.

The leader's eyes opened with a start and sat up quickly, only to find that there was a pounding ache in his shoulder. He looked up at her with wonder:

"What! And you are still alive, mademoiselle Eponine? Where is Grantaire? And the others?" He grasped her hand with what strength he had left.

The fearless Eponine could not meet his anxious gaze as she replied, "They are gone, monsieur. I was not here but I can see now that there is no one else living."

He gave a sudden violent shudder and his hand trembled upon hers. "Then it is was all for nothing," he muttered, "I sent them to their deaths. Poor men! What have I done?" His voice was cold and hard, and the anguish cut it like a knife. "I cannot live this way! Let me be!" cried the man, "Leave me here and let me die!"

"I will not," replied the gamine coldly, for she had gained her courage and mind once more, "You will come with me, monsieur."

A new wave of wonder filled him as he looked at that girl who sat by him with stubborn firmness. Before he could reply, another voice, equally cold and firm, was heard to say:

"He will not."

Inspector Javert stood looking down at them with an expression of horrible triumph in his dark eyes. "You will both come with me," continued the man, "Where I will see to it that justice is done."

"Justice!" Enjolras cried, "Yes! See justice done! Where was the justice in destroying these men? Where was the justice in seeing the filthy beggars and children starving on the street and leaving them be? Show me true justice now by ending my guilt and pain!"

"No!" said the girl, falling upon the Inspector's feet, "No! He does not know what he says! What do you want with him? He is nothing! Let him be!"

Javert's face was closed and impassive, a mask covering the cold stone of his heart. "I let one of those filthy revolutionaries be out of pity for you, girl! An eye for an eye, but what of the other? Shall I do what you want and have my conscience chase my very heels?"

"But why?" cried Eponine, "What wrong has he done?"

"He opposed the government!"

"He fought for the people!"

"Yes. But through cold blood."

"What of forgiveness, then? You have won! He cannot trouble you further!"

Javert turned to the exhausted man trying to rise.

Eponine gave one more attempt: "Mercy, Inspector. Where is mercy?"

The cold mask was lifted from the Javert's face as he heard her words, and she saw something like perplexity and struggle fighting within him. There was silence for a few moments. Then the inspector said quietly and passionately, as if to himself, "Mercy? I cannot! I am the law! But how? No! It is not right! But how can I be sure? Go then! Get out of my sight!"

…

_Mercy_. Could there be mercy where there was law? That night, two lives were spared. Out of mercy, there was life. Out of law, was there only death? Is it not only by mercy that a man truly lives? Two lives were spared. A third was born.

And Eponine and Enjolras left the dark, chilly fog of the barricades.


	9. Gradual Healing

**Once again, thank you all for the reviews! Much appreciated! Here's the next chapter. Sorry if things are going a bit slow, but don't worry! This chapter's purpose is to show Marius' and Enjolras' growing friendship, as well as Enjolras' and Eponine's. But I hope my writing is good enough to show that! Hope you enjoy! :D **

Chapter Nine

Eponine took care of both Marius and Enjolras as they recovered from their wounds, but in doing so, she faced the difficulty of bearing the reproach of both men. Marius healed quicker, and often he would pace about the tiny room of his apartment with such despair, and, after looking at Eponine with sorrowful accusation, would tremble with such passion and mutter quietly, "I should be dead with the rest! She is gone to me! I should be dead!" Then he would continue walking, tearing at his hair like a madman.

Despair did not come to Enjolras during his waking moments. Anger was his first reaction. But such anger! He would not yell at the poor gamine, or look at her with reproving anguish, as Marius did. Instead, he had all the coldness and silence of a withdrawn man. Sitting with his head bent over a table, he would not look up if Eponine entered. He hardly spoke.

One day Eponine could not bear it any longer. Marius was out. He had gone for a walk, but the wild look in his eyes caused fear to stir in the girl where there had been no fear before. But he had said, "I'll be back before supper." So she reassured herself that Monsieur Marius always kept his word.

Enjolras had remained, and was in the familiar position of leaning over his table with his hands before him.

"Monsieur Enjolras," said Eponine. Expecting no response, she continued, "What are you doing with yourself?"

Enjolras would not answer. With a sudden resolution that was unshakable in so stubborn a girl, Eponine sat down next to him and kept up her chatter, speaking of how bright it was outside, but how cold it was the other day, and then changing the subject to that of books and literature. Finally, Enjolras' stubborn will was shaken.

"What are you doing!" cried the man, standing up suddenly.

"Trying to help," was the sullen reply.

"There is no use in that!" Enjolras said bitterly, "It is over! I am a murderer and I suffer the consequences. There is no happiness now!"

"What! That is not the reasoning of the man I once heard! Where is he, who stood on the table before the crowd of adoring youths and made even me—me! a poor, ignorant devil!—feel the passion and hope that you stirred in our hearts!"

"He is gone! I sent those very men to their deaths. Even that drunkard, Grantaire! He saved my life! He, that intoxicated skeptic, fought for me! You should have let me die with him!"

"It was because of him that you live today!" cried Eponine, standing up and looking boldly into his eye. He saw tears falling from her thin cheek. "That man! My friend! He died saving your life! Oh, how I could hate you for that! And so I would, had he not told me to pity you and keep you safe!"

Enjolras sat down once more, but the cold look in his eyes was gone. Instead, he answered with some surprise, feeling a sad compassion for both the drunkard and the poor girl who vainly tried to conceal her tears from him: "He told you to save me?"

"Yes."

He looked down at his hands, but his position was not so much the same as a few hours ago, for now he sat with a curious, puzzled expression on his handsome face. Feeling she had done enough, Eponine made towards the door.

"Wait," called Enjolras. "Is that why you saved me? Because he told you to?"

Eponine did not turn around. She continued towards the door, saying quietly, "He wouldn't have liked seeing you live like this." That was all.

…

Monsieur Marius did not improve. Instead, he grew worse. Day by day, his face grew paler and his body thin. At first he refused to even eat, but when he found Eponine crying on the doorstep because he was starving himself, he began accepting the food she offered. He wouldn't allow her the agony he felt, but, of course, the food was later thrown out the window to the eager children of the street, much to the improved Enjolras' amusement.

Once, after Marius had just finished his daily meal procedure, Enjolras said to him,

"Why do you do that?"

"What?"

"You're not eating your food. Eponine would not have you starving yourself."

"She does not know," replied the other irritably.

"Right now, you mean. But she could find out."

Marius grew red with anger and said hotly, "If you even think of telling her!"

"I will tell her if you won't stop doing it. You'll kill yourself and I'll be held responsible, since I knew what you were up to. Why are you doing this to yourself?" Enjolras' slight smile had disappeared—his face was cold and grave: he was serious.

"There is nothing else for me to do!"

"Ridiculous!" retorted Enjolras, "You sit there every morning like a love-sick fool mourning his lost love when there is more to life than women!"

"That is easy for you to say! You who have never loved before!"

Enjolras smiled sadly. "I loved my revolution. And I have lost her, as well as my own beloved friends. What is perhaps worse is that it was my own doing."

Marius looked down at his feet, and then answered softly, "I am sorry. They were my friends too. I was just…" He struggled for words, his hands hanging down helplessly, "I forgot."

"You must love her very much, this Cosette."

"You know her name?"

Enjolras smiled again at his astonishment, but the smile was still sorrowful on his stern face. "I am not blind to all other loves besides that of my patria, Marius."

"How do you do it?" said Marius softly, "You continue living even when the only thing you've ever devoted your life to is gone."

"Eponine reminded me of that. She told me that there is a much larger goal, and that my friends would not have wanted me to live a life of sadness and guilt. She was right."

He stood up and left Marius to ponder over his words, and an idea began forming in Enjolras' mind. But he would need to tell Eponine first.

**I was able to master On My Own and Bring Him Home on the piano. Don't mean to brag, but I'm quite proud of myself! :D Yippee! **


	10. A Plan

**I'm crossing my fingers that you dear readers will be pleased with this chapter. I hope you don't find it too far off, but a story's got to have a plot! Anyway, really hope you enjoy! :D Oh, and if you've got any advice about Calais and all that (history-wise), please share! **

Chapter Ten

"Enjolras! I was just looking for you."

Enjolras had already grown familiar with the many oddities and manners Eponine had. This constant shifting of her weight from one foot to another, as well as the twisting of a scrap of paper in her hand, told the man that Eponine was uncomfortable or thoughtful. "So was I," he replied, "I wanted to talk to you about something. It's concerning Marius."

"Yes, I was about to tell you something of him too."

"You first, mademoiselle," said the other politely.

Her cheeks reddened slightly as she spoke with some thoughtfulness and even more embarrassment: "Marius—he is not doing very well. You know it!" she said quickly, "And I… Monsieur, I feel I must do something! I feel it because I…" There was now an unmistakable pink flush on her rough forehead.

"You love him," said Enjolras simply.

Eponine looked up at him with some mixture of relief and surprise. "How did you know, monsieur?"

"It was not very difficult to see. But what of him?"

"There is only one thing that can cure his depression."

"Cossette."

"Yes."

"And you wish to go to Calais and find her, tell her that Marius is alive and waiting for you, and hope that her father will allow her to come back. But you know that you cannot get there without money and were going to ask me."

Astonishment filled her large eyes. She reddened again and said with some fierceness: "You are right about the first part, but as to the money, I can earn my way!"

"That will take weeks. It is already a slim chance to hope that the young gentlewoman and her father are not yet across the sea. But if you did not come for money, why are you telling me this?" He saw her look down in frustration, pride, and struggle, and his own proud spirit relented as he continued, gently, "I will help you go to Calais. I was thinking of that exact thing when I came here looking for you! See, I wish to go to Calais and look for any other remaining revolutionaries trying to escape. If anything happened, that is the port we would meet."

"You really think some are still alive?"

"I can hope. I will help you, Eponine."

She smiled happily and pressed his hand with pleasure, but, after a moment of thoughtfulness, she said suddenly, "How did you know they were at Calais?"

"I heard you speaking with Marius that night in the barricades. Do you remember?"

"Oh! Yes, you were the man who told me to leave, weren't you? Well!"

"Don't tell Marius of your plan. He will raise his hopes to high, and if she is not there—"

"Yes!" said the girl sadly, "You are right. But what if she is not there?"

"We have only hope on our side, mademoiselle. Go prepare your things. I will meet you back here."

He was about to leave when she stopped him: "But I have no other things."

"Oh! Yes, pardon me." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "Never mind! Just be here by noon."

"Monsieur," she said again, "Thank you!"

Enjolras allowed himself a smile that was not mournful or ironic, though it felt rather uncomfortable on his reserved face. The cunning of women only disgusted or irritated Enjolras; Eponine, however, artlessly remarked, with such innocence and frankness seen in a child,

"How well you look when you smile!" And then she scuttled away, leaving him with a wordless expression on his unusually scarlet face.


	11. To Calais!

**Next chapter! Thank you so much for the reviews! Hope you enjoy! :D**

Chapter Eleven

Eponine looked out of the stage coach with a sort of fascination. As the wheels creaked forward and the horses began to trot out of Paris, she stared at the people passing by and laughed gleefully:

"How wonderful! I thought we were going to have to walk to Calais!"

To this Enjolras was slightly amused, although he also felt a pang of sadness as he thought of those other poor creatures like her for whom his friends had died. A smile crept upon his lips, however, as he watched her. She would sit down with seemingly restrained composure only to jump up again and stare out at the passing scenes.

"Look! There's Gavroche, the little scoundrel! What! He doesn't see me! Of course he will not know me, for why would I be in such a fine carriage?"

"He is your brother?"

"Yes."

"Now that I think of it, he does look something like you."

"Dirt and bone! Any creature you pick up from the streets would look like me! We're all the same: nothing but the filth of the earth, taking up so much space only to be trod upon like dust."

Enjolras, disturbed, looked at her. "I do not think that, Eponine," said he, "I was going to say that you both have the same soft brown eyes and the same striking expression in them."

"What is that, Monsieur?" she asked. Eponine was cunning and bold in the company of her kind; in the presence of this kind man, however, the poor girl felt pleased in the same way a child is pleased when her friend approves of her little crown of wilted flowers.

He answered: "It is the story of courage and grief in a life so young—too young, indeed, to have been thrown into a world of horror and starvation. Your life should not be full of such trials, Eponine. That same story in your eyes was the foundation stone of our revolution."

"Then I am sorry for it."

"Why?"

"Your compatriots died for it, and now what has happened? Nothing—we still suffer."

"Yes! But we tried! And that is enough to satisfy the heart of a troubled man. To know that he tried, even against the odds, makes my heart glad. I tried, Eponine."

"Aren't you sad? That all your trying came to nothing?"

"It will not come to nothing." said Enjolras firmly. "Perhaps we cannot bring peace on this earth, but there is a dwelling for us all in another. My friends are both satisfied and peaceful; alas that I must toil alone now!"

Eponine looked at him curiously. "You are a very strong man, Enjolras."

"What! I am anything but strong! Look at me, Eponine. Maybe you see a tall, brave leader, but all I can see is a wretched soul with a guilt that overcomes him. I am weak."

"That is why you are strong." She looked out of the coach again, no longer excited or restless. She simply folded her hands and stared out at the sky quietly. Enjolras watched her, saying softly:

"How odd you are!"

She smiled. "Look, Monsieur, we are out of Paris!"

…

Valjean sat with his hands buried in his purely white head. The hands were rough: a knife or rope would do well in them; and yet those very hands, coarse as they were, could hold a delicate, little flower with the gentleness of a lamb. The white head spoke of hardships and many years and yet symbolized such peace and simple joy.

He was sad. Valjean knew that there would come a time when Cossette would have to leave him, and yet he could not bear to think of it. As soon as they had touched the soil of Calais, Cossette had fallen at his feet, weeping and explaining her love for a young man back in Paris.

He had been very angry, then, and even the wisdom of his years of struggle was forgotten. Had he not saved Cossette from the grasp of Javert? And while he had been worrying for her, she had been meeting this man! How he hated this boy who had stolen his Cossette's loyalty!

And yet, after thinking over it for hours with such heavy burden upon his back, Valjean could no longer hate this man. The father loved Cossette, and Cossette loved the father. But Cossette also loved Marius, and Marius loved her. Yes, there was nothing to do but forgive Cossette and the young man and grant them his approval.

But he could not do that now—not after he learned that this Marius had taken part in the revolution and was perhaps dead with the rest of them! Besides, Javert, a true inspector in the making, was still hovering over Paris. Leaving France was the safest thing to do.

Cossette came into the room.

"Papa?"

"What is it, child?"

"Please, father, do not make me leave him!" cried she, taking his own hands into hers. "I cannot!"

"My child, the revolution took many lives," then, wringing his hands, "Oh! Had I only known! Perhaps I could have saved him! But, Cosette, there is no hope for you here now. We must leave."

"One more day," begged the girl. "That is all I ask. The papers will be out and I will find a list of those who died that day! Please, father, let us wait one day longer."

Valjean sighed. "Very well, Cossette."

With tears in her eyes, the beautiful girl thanked him, pressing his care-worn hands with joy and gratitude. She left the room with hope stirring once more in her heart. Valjean sat with his hands buried in his purely white head.

**Thanks to JB for some advice and edits! :D**


	12. Keep Your Ships At Bay!

**Again, I thank you very much for the reviews! They make me so happy! Also, oops, I can't believe I forgot how to spell Cosette! :D Hope you enjoy! **

Chapter Twelve

"Monsieur, are we nearly there?"

Enjolras sighed. Looking outside, he could see the peaceful valley with its sloping hills and little ponds. The scenery that lay before him seemed so peaceful and quiet compared to the bustling city of Paris. Under the dark, starry sky, the countryside seemed to be sleeping contentedly. If only _she_ would fall asleep as well and leave him to his thoughts.

"Almost, Eponine. Almost," he replied tiredly.

The girl fiddled with her fingers impatiently.

"Be patient. We will reach Calais soon," said Enjolras gently, although with some effort. Eponine had been asking that same question repeatedly throughout the journey, and it took all of his own patience to answer her.

"What if they aren't there? Will they be there, Monsieur?" asked the girl anxiously. As he watched her, Enjolras could see that she was truly uneasy and worried. She continued quietly: "It is so hard for me!"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, anymore. I don't know what I'm doing! I should be with Marius! I should be watching him and making sure he doesn't hurt himself! I know I don't want to bring Cosette to him. It will only destroy my hope forever! And yet, I cannot let him die! How can I live with it? I don't want him to suffer, but by wanting that I would make myself suffer! Oh, is there no happiness for us both?"

Trembling, she grasped his hand, and he saw in the darkness a shining tear, reflecting the soft glow of the moonlight, slipping down her cheek. He heard her whisper,

"It is over for me."

With the awkwardness of one who is not sure what to do, Enjolras pressed her hand gently and said, "It isn't over for you, Eponine. Happiness is not lost! Marius is not happiness, and losing him is not losing everything."

"So you do believe that he will never love me, Monsieur?" she said softly after a pause.

He sighed again. "I cannot be sure of anything, but I do not think he ever will." There was silence. "I am truly sorry, Eponine."

"No, no," she replied, "You speak what you believe, and for that I am grateful."

"I am also sorry for him."

"What?" She peered at him curiously.

"I am sorry that he does not know how to treasure someone so loyal and loving. Because of your faith and love, you follow him even to the point of possible death! He cannot see this, but I would never be able to express my gratitude for having a loyal friend like that. You are a good friend, and I can see that even when he cannot."

"Thank you, Enjolras."

The talking ceased for a while as they both looked out the window to the night sky. The moon shone full and bright—a magnificent, lustrous orb gleaming in the dark. As Eponine looked at it, she smiled, remembering it as her own loyal friend who had kept her company when she was all alone. As Enjolras gazed at it thoughtfully, he recalled the many nights spent at the ABC café, working hard for his Patria. There were many times when he'd look up from his work and see that glowing moon smiling at him from outside. When men died and uprisings failed, the moon would still be there, never failing to shine and give light to travelers in good times and bad.

Breaking the silence, Eponine spoke softly: "The other students—those men who fought alongside you—they too are loyal, aren't they?"

"Yes. They fought for the good of France and they didn't back down."

"That is not all. Monsieur, they fought for you too."

Enjolras looked at her with wonder, joy and sorrow.

"Oh! Have I made you sad? I am a devil, indeed! Please, don't let me make you be sad. Don't listen to me! I am a fool!"

He smiled as she scolded herself. "I am happy, Eponine. I am happy now."

…

Marius paced the room restlessly. "Where are they?" he said to himself, "Where did they go? Oh, what do I care? They have probably told each other, 'What a madman Marius has turned into! Come, let us leave this lunatic!' Yes! They have left me! But that doesn't matter. It is simply another burden cast off. Now I can find Cosette! Yes, I will go to her. How happy she will be! Cosette, wait for me! I am coming!"

He laughed joyfully but stopped when he saw his reflection in the glass. "What I beast I look like! Well, Cosette shan't approve of that! I must be fit to stand in her presence!" He sat down again, shuddering with delight as he thought of that beautiful countenance smiling up at him once more. "I must get ready," he muttered. "Calais, keep your ships at bay! I am coming!"

Marius left with the intention of buying a new pair of boots.

A few minutes after he had gone, someone stirred in the adjacent apartment. This tall shadow hurried silently to the window and watched as Marius pushed the door open and disappeared among the crowds in the street. As he watched, the shadow muttered: "Cosette. How familiar that sounds! Cos—" The person straightened suddenly and turned to the frightened little man who had his back on the wall. "Are you certain this young man is part of the rebellion?"

The little ugly man cowered below him and tried to speak piteously, "Dear Inspector! Spare a few poor, starving—"

"Enough! You say this Marius and another man who frequented his apartment were part of the rebellion?"

"Yes, Inspector," answered the other, whimpering, "I've seen 'em many times, Monsieur." He continued to whimper as he watched the inspector stride back and forth across the room. Then ever so slowly a smile, hideous and terrifying, crept on the short man's face. "They were collaborating with each other, monsieur! That Marius has been my neighbor for years. As for the other, he is the leader of the rebellion, so my eldest daughter tells me. She goes there often, and soon I began getting curious-it's only what a good father would do- and I asked her (very kindly, my dear inspector) where she was off to all the time. She told me everything! She's a good girl, that one!"

"The leader-he was not in the room with Marius. Where is he?"

"I heard him talking with my girl about going to find someone named Cosette—"

The other man stopped short and muttered, "Cosette! Ha! Three in one!" He gave a hideous, low laugh. "Valjean, take care! Two young men will be your doom. Calais, keep your ships at bay!"


	13. Surprises

**Sorry for taking so long. School is what school is. Anways, thank you so much for the reviews and I hope you enjoy! :D **

Chapter Thirteen

"Calais at last!"

Eponine felt as if her heart would burst with joy. As much as she dreaded seeing Cosette, relief that the ordeal would soon be over was enough for her to celebrate.

A hundred voices hit her ear once she stepped out of the carriage; she listened with bewilderment and curiosity as two Englishmen, talking in low voices to each other, walked by.

It was amusing for Enjolras to see her standing beside him, those brown eyes wide with interest. But he could hardly blame her for the immediate relief she openly expressed at having finally arrived at Calais. His every limb seemed to ache from the many hours in a motionless position.

"'Ponine," said he, "We must find a place to stay."

"What!" replied an indignant Eponine. "We must look for Cosette now!"

"Patience! And what if by nighttime you still haven't found her? We must do this systematically."

"Systematically!" was the impatient retort. "Now that sounds to much like the logical leader of the rebellion!"

"Hush!" ordered Enjolras suddenly. "I am not safe here."

Immediately the girl's mouth shut and she glanced around her anxiously. "You are right, monsieur. I'm sorry."

"You are just excited, Eponine. But here, if you want to do things more quickly, go and find an inn while I look for the other revolutionaries. I'll watch out for the mademoiselle."

Eponine agreed, adding that she, too, would 'keep an eye out for the lady'. Enjolras' quick ear did not miss the bitter note in her voice when she said "lady". He stopped her before she could leave: "Be careful. And remember, don't tell anyone I'm here!"

…

Eponine found herself at home in the strange large port. She was familiar with the crowds of people and dark alleys, and the people seemed familiar with her. At least, they did not pay attention to the gamine with searching eyes.

As she walked, she caught sight of a little inn rather isolated from the other shops. It seemed decent enough, more decent than her father's hash house had been. After making out the name of the tavern (she was quite pleased with herself), the gamine skipped merrily back to where she was supposed to meet Enjolras.

She collided with another girl, who had been watching her intently for a few moments. This girl was much smaller and thinner, and her hair was a pretty blonde.

"'Zelma!" cried the other, looking at her with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello, 'Ponine. What are _you_ doing here?" asked the smiling child.

Embracing her little sister with a look of both confusion and happiness, Eponine replied reluctantly, "Business."

"So I see. Who's that handsome fella' you were talking to?"

"Azelma!" chastised the other angrily, "How long have you been following me?"

"Oh, I was here," said the girl vaguely, shrugging her thin shoulders nonchalantly.

"Where are maman and papa?"

The younger sister marked with some surprise the anxious, almost frightened, tone of Eponine's voice, for when had the eldest Thenardier girl become fearful of anything? "Oh, what do I care where those two are?" replied the girl, again with indifference.

"Don't avoid my questions, 'Zelma!"

"I won't if you won't. Who's the man?"

"What is it to you?" The two girls looked fiercely at each other, locked in a rare clash of wills, but finally Eponine sighed and said, "He is a friend helping me."

"Helping you?"asked the other doubtfully.

"Yes."

Seeing that her sister would not say anything further, Azelma let out a merry laugh and, skipping around Eponine like the child that she was, she said, "Eponine has a friend, has she? How fortunate! Do remember to share your treasures with us all! And as to secrets, papa is doing a little shopping"—here she winked—"and maman is with him."

"They are here?"

Again Azelma caught Eponine's anxious glances. "Yes. But exactly where, I cannot tell. They will find me, or I shall find them! Either way, I have to go now, dear sister. Say hello to your new friend for me!" And before Eponine could say a word, the child was lost in the crowds, leaving the eldest Thenardier speechless.

…

"Azelma!"

Monsieur Thenardier grabbed the little girl by her hair before she could skip away.

"There you are, papa. I was wondering where you had gone to," said the girl, striving to bring indifference into her frightened little voice.

The father only scowled.

"Take care!" replied the girl, trembling yet speaking confidently, "Or maman shall hear of it!"

At once Thenardier's fierce, ugly features softened, although that didn't lessen the ugliness one bit. "Don't say that, my little darling. I only wanted to ask you if you did what I asked."

"Then yes, I did."

"Well?"

"You won't do anything bad to her, will you? If you do, I shan't tell!"

The little man's lip trembled angrily but he calmed himself once more and replied gently, "Of course I won't hurt her! Your own sister? Don't be ridiculous."

"I found her. Says she's in Calais on business. She came with a young man."

Thenardier scowled. "Business!" he muttered. "The little whelp! Doing business behind her father's back!" Then loudly, "What did the man look like?"

"He was tall. Got good looks, that chap did!" answered Azelma, unabashed.

"Good looks, eh? I'll mar 'em, I will! Well, get on with you then," said he to the girl, who ran quickly away from him with relief. Seeing that he was alone, he whispered, "Monsieur?"

In the darkness of the narrow alley, an answer, deep and calm, came: "Found?"

**So excited for Samantha's performance in the film. …Well, I'm excited for the whole thing, really! **


	14. A Blow

**Phew! Next chapter! Thanks again to JB for her editing and advice, and to all of you lovely people out there, thank you so much for the reviews! Anyway, here you go! :D**

Chapter Fourteen

Eponine looked around nervously. Enjolras still hadn't arrived and the sun was sinking below the horizon, the last of its shining rays disappearing in a haze of warm orange.

The knowledge of her father's location cast an uneasy shadow over her mind, and Eponine yearned for the presence of the calm and level-headed Enjolras to keep her from abandoning the plan altogether. With painful anxiety, she waited, and it seemed to her that more than one person shot a suspicious glance her way.

As she waited, agitation was replaced with doubtful suggestions. Perhaps he had found other revolutionaries and, in his enthusiasm, failed to keep the time in mind. But enthusiasm was not a convincing distraction—even in a passion, Enjolras would never forget her… or would he?

Finally she could take it no more. Enjolras, if he ever remembered at all, would have to look for her himself. She would search for Cosette.

…

Enjolras had not forgotten about Eponine at all. He was simply occupied with a more important matter.

As Eponine had been searching for the inn, Enjolras had been carefully watching one of the rows of buildings. He could see a young lady sitting inside one of the houses, staring out the window—she was very pretty, with soft, golden curls and large blue eyes; but what caught Enjolras' attention was a dark figure behind her. The shape seemed to bend with long age and a fluff of white hair grew on the head of a turned-away face.

Uncertain, Enjolras crossed the street to the buildings. Quietly, he moved towards _that _house and stood motionless, seemingly occupied with the carriages rolling by on the street. He heard them talking:

"It is time, child. We've lingered here far too long. Let us away!"

There was something like a sob and then a high, pretty voice said mournfully, "Yes, papa. But what if—"

"Cosette,"—here Enjolras stiffened and began listening more intently—"the young man is gone. There is no use putting off our departure."

"Why are you in such a hurry?"

The old man's voice became low and cautious, "There are certain people who do not wish us well here, child."

It seemed as if Cosette was about to ask more about the matter, but the old man turned to the window and Enjolras felt as if the elderly gentleman's eyes were upon him. He heard a low, "Hush!" and when Enjolras dared to look up again, a curtain had been drawn over the window.

It was getting dark.

Enjolras hurried on his way back to Eponine. It would be better for her to tell Cosette—would not the mademoiselle find it curious that a man came to her house to tell her of her love's existence? _ A woman would be more fit for the job_, decided Enjolras.

As he made his way back, he caught sight of someone familiar hurrying past him. It was Marius.

"Marius!"

The young man turned, his eyes staring back at Enjolras with an absent-minded expression. "Oh, Monsieur Enjolras, you are here. I wondered where you had gone. Where is Eponine?"

"I am looking for her," replied the other, somewhat astonished, "But what are you doing here!"

"What!" cried the young man indignantly, "I'm here to find Cosette! Why else would I be here?"

Enjolras sighed. "And what if she is no longer here?"

"It's worth a try," muttered Marius. "What are _you_ doing here?"

Before the other could reply, off went Marius, muttering to himself hopeful assurances. Enjolras turned with a thoughtful look in his eyes, but before he moved a step, another man addressed him:

"Is your name Monsieur Enjolras?"

"Why do you ask?" retorted the other suspiciously. He knew he had never seen this man's face before and yet there was something so familiar in his features.

"I thought so," muttered the man to himself. And before Enjolras could say another word, the man pushed him into one of the dark alleys.

"Let go!" cried Enjolras angrily, trying fiercely to free himself from the tightening arms of the stranger.

"Quiet!" snarled the man's voice in the dark, and something cold and hard pressed against the struggling man's neck. He continued to resist, only stopping when a pain shot through his stomach and he found himself thrown back against the wall of a building.

Leaning against his arm, Enjolras lifted his head and saw a little grinning man looking down at him. "Got ya!" Enjolras heard the man say, and the last thing he saw was a hideous smile hovering above him.

…

Eponine looked around. She would have to go around the entire port to find Cosette. Perhaps waiting for Enjolras was the better thing to do… she would need his encouragement and unwavering will.

"Eponine!"

The moment the familiar voice reached her ears, she felt a sort of dread creeping upon her. What was he doing here?

"'Ponine, what are you doing here?"

"I might ask you the same question, Monsieur."

Marius laughed.

"You look happy," said the girl bitterly. "What! Have you found your Cosette?"

"No."

"Then why are you so..."

"Exultant? Blissful?" suggested the young man. "I'm the happiest man alive, 'Ponine! I saw him… Cosette's father. They're still here! I was about to follow him but he disappeared in the crowd and then I found you! But, oh! She's still here, 'Ponine! Waiting for me!"

Eponine sighed. "Yes," she murmured to herself, "It was going to happen anyway. You know it!"

"What was going to happen? 'Ponine, is it possible to burst from happiness?" His joyful voice rang in the air, grating her ear. "I should tell Enjolras. Then I could laugh and—"

"You saw him?"

"Why, yes. That is—"

"Where?"

"Well, somewhere near this place. He was looking at something and then I heard him call my name as I walked by. He told me he was looking for you."

"When was it that you saw him last?" she demanded, grasping his arm anxiously.

"Hours ago, it seems. But why are you so—"

"Oh!" Marius, a confused expression replacing the joy, watched as she pondered over his words. "He was looking for me!"

"Yes."

"That is all? And then he left you?"

"Yes. But I also saw him talking with someone."

"Who!" cried Eponine. "Who was it? Describe him to me!" She fixed her eyes upon him eagerly.

"He was a little man with… rather harsh features… " Marius started with surprise and then exclaimed, "Why, he looked a lot like your father, Eponine!"

As he said these words, he watched the effect they had in Eponine. She had been clasping his arm in her eagerness but as the words sunk in, her hand fell lifeless at her side. Her face looked pale, if that was possible; and the large brown eyes that had been looking up at him with voiceless entreaty, as if saying, "Please, tell me it isn't so!" now met his eyes blankly. She did not see him.

After a few silent minutes, she had regained control of her emotions and spoke with forced steadiness, "I thought so. He wouldn't come this far except if money was in the bargain. I must find him."

"I don't understand. Eponine?"

She did not look at him. Muttering to herself, she began to walk away.

"Eponine!" called Marius.

But she did not hear him. For once, Monsieur Marius did not occupy any place in her thoughts.

**I like thinking of oxymorons. And I can't wait for the LesMis movie! :D**


	15. A Bargain

**Haha, thanks for the reviews! Actually, there's really only one bad guy: Javert. I hope I'm not confusing you. Thenardier… well, he's just a tool, if you know what I mean. But anyway, thanks for the lovely reviews and please keep reading! I'll try making it less chaotic. :D **

Chapter Fifteen

Enjolras opened his eyes.

There was a small window on his right, and through it he could see that the morning had already arrived.

He was sitting on a hard bench, inside what seemed to be a little inn. In fact, it would have looked like a tavern indeed, except that he was the only living being there. And Enjolras would have thought himself safe, except that his hands were bound.

It was comfortable enough, save the pain in his head as well as his back. Enjolras was a master of concealing emotion, but inside his mind was a tumult of thoughts. Where was he? What had happened to Eponine? Had the National Guards found him?

As he pondered over these things, someone entered the inn. He was the same man who had attacked Enjolras the other day.

"Where am I?" demanded Enjolras instantly. "Who are you?"

The other man let out a harsh laugh and replied, "I am Monsieur Thenardier and you are sitting inside one of the finest taverns in Calais!"

"Thenardier! You're Eponine's father!"

"Well, there's no use telling that to my face. Yes, I'm Eponine's father."

"What do you want with me? I have done nothing to you."

Thenardier laughed again. "Of course you haven't! The rich men of the world have never done anything to me! They're simply born with a fortune that we peasants long for our whole lives."

"If it's money you want, there's no use threatening me."

"It's not _your_ money I want. I'm simply working for someone else's money."

"Who?"

"Enough of your questions. You'll see who it is soon enough. He'll be here in a few hours so shut your mouth and wait!"

The two sat there, silently watching each other. Suddenly Enjolras spoke: "Eponine doesn't look like you at all."

"Really?" said the other indifferently.

"She's not as… harsh looking."

"Well, looks don't matter at all!" declared Thenardier, slapping his thigh gleefully, "She's the same as all of us inside. If there's someone who can pull an innocent face, it's that girl! Ha! You don't know a thing about her!"

"I do," replied Enjolras solemnly, "She told me about her life in the country, as well as her life in Paris. She told me about her sufferings and her happy memories."

Thenardier grunted. "Why would she do that?"

Enjolras continued without answering his question, "She admitted that her existence was a mere façade. She hated her life—stealing, betraying, helping her father—she despised herself. It was so intense, she told me, that sometimes she just wanted to drown and let the stains and hardships of her life wash away like foam in a river."

Calm and silent, Thenardier had bent his head slightly as Enjolras talked, and the young man could see that Eponine's father was listening intently.

When he stopped, Thenardier gave another grunt and said, "You see? She's the same as all of us. Stained forever."

"No," replied Enjolras quietly, "She is different because she is willing to admit it and willing to leave it all behind. Inside, she is still that young, hopeful girl waiting for a new life."

"How do you know that we all don't want that?" retorted Thenardier bitterly. "What makes you think we don't want a better life? Life never gave us a chance!"

"You're right," Enjolras said sadly. "Your case, Monsieur Thenardier, is a miserable one indeed. But does that mean you have the right to steal from others? To murder? It is just as hard for a rich man to keep his hand from evil! We all have our own hardships, no matter how different they are. What is important is how we deal with them."

"Well our hardships are a lot harder," muttered Thenardier, but before Enjolras could reply, the door opened and Inspector Javert entered, looking at Enjolras with a triumphant gleam in his eye.

"There you are, Inspector," said Thenardier, standing quickly and moving to the man's side. "I've done as you wished, so let's see the money."

Javert let a sack of coins drop into the little man's hands, but before Thenardier exited the room, the Inspector whispered in his ear, "I'll deal with you later! Just because you helped me doesn't mean I'll forget my duty!"

"That's all very well, dear Inspector," replied Thenardier, somewhat unnerved, "Just give me a head start and let's get to it!" And he was out of the inn in a second.

"Now," said the Inspector, turning to Enjolras, "You are Monsieur Enjolras, I presume?"

"Do what you have to do, Inspector!" replied Enjolras stoutly.

"Not yet! You will first help me find two others: Jean Valjean, a convict, and Marius Pontmercy, a revolutionary just like you."

"What makes you think I'll help you?"

"That girl I see you speaking with all the time—I could jail her for being the daughter of a notorious thief! And you might never see her again!"

"Eponine! She has done nothing wrong!"

"You know that isn't true, Monsieur Enjolras."

Enjolras looked at him bitterly. "She has committed some crimes, yes, but that was long ago. She wants to change."

The Inspector stared back, indifferent. "She has sinned and must be punished. But I may give her a fair chance of proving herself if you help me find the two others."

"I will not!" cried Enjolras resolutely. "I will not be the cause of two other men's deaths!" _Eponine can take care of herself_, he thought sadly.

"Very well, Monsieur. I will find Eponine and you will come with me, whether you choose to help or not."

…

Eponine glanced around. It was morning—a new day and a fresh start. Calais was not so large. Surely Enjolras would be waiting for her somewhere. Still, the anxiety grew.

For every house the same thing happened:

"What do you want?"

"Have you seen a tall young man walking around here?"

If the door didn't slam before her, the reply would be something like this: "What does he look like? I can't tell if I don't know who it is your looking for. Does he have a name?"

Then Eponine would try avoiding the question, "Like I said, he's tall. Got dark hair and"—here she reddened slightly—"looks somewhat angel-like and all."

"Angelic? Some man it seems you got there, girl. Sorry, haven't seen him." It was the same reply over and over again.

Hope was slowly dissolving in her heart when Eponine suddenly remembered the inn she had found that first day. It did remind her of her father's inn, although it's appearance was less unfavorable. Perhaps her father had him there.

But first she must find Marius.

…

Peeking through the window of the inn, Eponine could see Enjolras sitting with his hands tied behind him. Eponine almost leapt with joy. He seemed well enough, despite the fact that his head was bending wearily down.

There was a back door.

She entered without a sound and stood quietly by the door, looking round her to see who else might be lurking in the silent inn.

"Enjolras!" she whispered.

He started and turned, and for once his face betrayed both astonishment and relief. But it was short-lived. When he spoke, his voice was strained and urgent, "Get out, 'Ponine! Get out!"

The tone of his voice startled her and she stooped low, peering around once more. It seemed now as if some evil shadow lurked in the dark corners. She walked quietly forward and began untying the ropes that were biting mercilessly at Enjolras hands—all the while Enjolras said in a low, insistent voice, "What are you doing? Get out! He might come!"

"Who?"

"Inspector Javert." It was the man himself, not Enjolras, who had spoken. He had come through the back door. "I was waiting for you, Mademoiselle Thenardier. There is no use trying to leave," he said calmly, as she made a sharp movement towards the front door, "I had only gone out to find your father. He's waiting outside to get you if you try leaving. But I had expected you to be more loyal than that. Does he mean nothing to you?"

She did not speak.

"Very well. Do you know where the convict and his daughter are?"

She remained silent, but the understanding that flashed quickly in her eyes was enough for the Inspector.

"Then you will help me find them, or I will bring Monsieur Enjolras to jail."

"If I help you, will you let him go?" replied the girl, equally calm.

"Eponine, what are you doing!" cried Enjolras.

"Will you?" she asked again, ignoring the young man and staring boldly into the Inspector's eye.

"I will."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"The rebellion is over, mademoiselle. The other revolutionaries are dead—he is insignificant and useless. France has bigger things to take care of. I will let him go: I give you my word."

"I'll take you to the old gentleman, then."

"Eponine, stop!" cried Enjolras again. "What are you doing? The old man will be jailed! Cosette will be lost! Think of Marius!"

She looked at him coldly, and the young man would have shuddered if he had not had the power to conceal his feelings. Eponine no longer looked like the quiet yet bold girl he knew who could face a pack of hungry wolves and still hold a tiny kitten with the gentleness of a mother. Everything that was good and warm in her seemed to have vanished in front of him as she replied bitterly,

"What of him?"


	16. Free

**Thanks for the reviews and hope you enjoy!**

Chapter Sixteen

"What!" cried Javert as he looked around him. The gamine had led him to a wharf. "I asked you to bring me to Valjean," said the Inspector, his eyes flashing furiously through the calm, impassive mask.

"Yes, Inspector. This is as far as I can take you."

"What!" he exclaimed again, "I don't understand."

"No? The Monsieur and his daughter have gone to England with Monsieur Marius. They are gone."

"Gone!"

"Yes."

The Inspector looked wildly about him, as if hoping to see a glimpse of a white sail in the bubbling, foamy sea. "Gone!" he repeated, trying to convince himself. "Then I must follow them!"

"You won't find them, Inspector," said Eponine quietly.

"I have to!" cried Javert, "I cannot let them go!"

"You must."

He turned to her angrily. "I must? He has done wrong! If I let him go now, I break the law! And the law must not be broken!"

"You let me go. You let me rescue those two young men."

"Yes," said the other, gnashing his teeth. "The world is falling apart," he muttered, "How am I supposed to hold it?"

"What makes you think the world is held by only law?"

"If I let him go, I break the law," said Javert again, this time softly. "If I break the law, I condemn myself to death."

"I do not control your life, Monsieur, but I would not let a fellow man die. There is another way out, Monsieur."

"What would that be?" asked Javert hopelessly. Though he refused to bend or fall to his knees, Eponine saw the desperation, the confusion and panic, in Javert's eyes. His eye was the little keyhole of his emotions, allowing quick glimpses into his very soul. And as Eponine looked, she saw something she and all the other beggars of the street had never thought he felt: fear.

"You can forgive him. What is the Law without pity, Inspector? I am only the filth of the street, but I know that no man can live without mercy. Let Cosette's father live, Monsieur. And allow your own soul that same life."

"A life with mercy," murmured Javert. "What has this world come to?"

"Am I free to go, Inspector?" said the girl, sensing he wanted peace and quiet to think.

"Yes," muttered the man. "You are free to go."

…

Enjolras waited. He had no other choice. His wrists were aching from the ropes, and he was still sitting on the bench of the Thenardier tavern in Calais.

As he listened with marked impatience for any signs of movement outside, he remembered the bitterness in Eponine's voice and her angry expression. That wasn't like her at all. Enjolras had thought her changed, but perhaps she was still a treacherous thief. No matter how many times he told that to himself, he nevertheless felt regret and a tinge of hurt. Eponine would not do something so treacherous!

Of course, she was trying to save him. At first, pride stole into his feelings. To think that she would do everything to save him! But he pushed the pleasing thought away with some embarrassment, saying to himself, _she wants revenge. That is all! And it is wrong for her to be betraying Marius and his lover's father._

As his feelings shifted relentlessly, a sound of feet shuffling behind the door reached his ears. Eponine entered.

"Well!" said the girl, looking pleased with herself.

Enjolras did not smile back. His thoughts had just transferred once more to the original opinion.

She cut the ropes. "You're free now," said she.

Still he did not answer.

"What! Don't I deserve some gratitude, Monsieur?" said Eponine, laughing. "Why do you look at me like that? I haven't committed any crime recently, Inspector!"

"Eponine," said Enjolras quietly, "Where are Marius and Cosette's father?"

Staring back undaunted, Eponine continued smiling and replied, "England."

"England!" The bench on which Enjolras sat suddenly gave way as he started and fell backwards. His face emerged, red with both perplexity and embarrassment, from behind the bench as Eponine laughed heartily.

"Yes, Monsieur. They're gone and we're both free to go."

"How?" asked he, bewildered.

"I was looking for you, Monsieur…"

As she spoke, laughing at times, Enjolras smiled. Here was the Eponine he remembered. As he watched her, that girl who looked so happy and peaceful, Enjolras realized how much he had tried thinking the best of her when it seemed she had betrayed him. He realized that he didn't want to think of her as a treacherous, bitter thief—seeing her now, a completely pure, untainted picture in front of him, Enjolras' heart was truly glad.

(Eponine's Story)

"I was looking for you, Monsieur…"

Hope was slowly dissolving in her heart when Eponine suddenly remembered the inn she had found that first day. It did remind her of her father's inn, although it's appearance was less unfavorable. Perhaps her father had Enjolras there.

But first she must find Marius.

"Eponine! What are you up to? Have you found Enjolras?" said the young man when he saw her approaching.

"I know where Cosette is," replied the girl, ignoring his questions.

"What! Where is she!"

"The Inspector of Paris is looking for you… and her. You must get away!"

"What? I don't understand. Eponine!"

"Listen! Cosette's father is a good man, but for some reason the Inspector Javert is trying to catch him. You must leave, Monsieur—with Cosette and her father. He will not stop looking!"

"Where must I go?"

"Tell Cosette's father. He plans on leaving France—go with him, Marius!"

"What!"

"Go! You will be with Cosette. What more do you want?" cried the girl and then turned to leave.

Marius caught her hand and pressed it. "Thank you, Eponine, for everything." She tried to turn but he didn't let go. "I know I haven't been a very good friend like you. I wish I could do more. Thank you for everything! I will miss your smiles!"

She lifted her eyes to his. "Thank you, Monsieur." She watched him hurry joyfully to the address she had given him. And then she turned and walked away. Eponine had let Monsieur Marius go at last.

**The end of the story is nearing. Don't worry! There'll be a few more chapters left. :D **


	17. Saying Goodbye

**Halloo! Sorry for taking a while, but I've been cramming for a lit test. Thanks so much for the reviews! It's time to say goodbye to some characters now. I think I have room for one more chapter after this one. I'm really rather sad that it's ending, but all stories have to end somewhere. Anyways, I want to prolong it as much as possible. Hope you enjoy! :D**

Chapter Seventeen

Enjolras found Eponine standing motionless outside of the inn. She was looking intently towards the heavens, where the bright, orange glow of the sun was fading slowly from sight. A few soft, dreamlike clouds wandered in a pale blue sky, while a lone bird, glorious in the heavens, soared smoothly in circles over dusky Calais. It seemed like the perfect ending to a journey.

"Back to Paris, then?" said Enjolras, approaching her.

She turned, smiling. "Why Paris?"

"I always assumed you would be going back after our little errand."

"Errand? Is that what that was? Well, I suppose so. When are we going then?"

"I'll send for a carriage. Will you bring your little sister with you?"

Eponine glanced at him suddenly, answering slowly, "Yes—aren't you coming with us?"

He looked up at the sky, assuming her former position. "I'm not sure what I'll do in Paris just yet. I think I'll stay around here for a while—see if I can find something to keep my mind occupied."

"I see." She had turned away, and as soon as her smile was hidden from his sight, Enjolras felt as if the bright sun that brought light and warmth to his world had suddenly been snuffed out like a candle. Suddenly keeping his mind occupied with work didn't seem very important.

They stood that way for a moment. Eponine stared at a building with her back towards him as Enjolras watched the lone bird gliding in the sky, and it seemed to the young man that the bird looked rather forlorn now—less triumphant. Finally Eponine turned to him and said quickly,

"You don't have to send for the carriage just now. I have another quick errand to do."

"Would you like me to come with you?" asked the other, his voice polite yet also discreetly hopeful.

"No," replied Eponine thoughtfully, "I suppose you'd want to be alone."

Without another word, she started walking away.

Enjolras watched her go, and after a moment's hesitation, he followed.

…

Javert sat on one of the docks, his boots swaying over the cold water. He was looking at the sun, that same sun which still came up every morning, never failing to appear even when the entire world was in turmoil.

Maybe the Thenardier girl was right. What was the law without mercy? What was a star without a darkness to shine in? If only there was something that could assure him, some truth which he could depend upon. But the Inspector had nothing to anchor his wandering beliefs. Had not the law alone been his life?

He heard someone approaching from behind.

"Inspector?"

He did not turn to see who it was.

"Here,"—something hard and heavy hit the floor beside him—"I thought you might want this."

He knew what it was, even without looking. It was the very thing he lived for and yet was still a mystery to him. It had been his comfort and his frustration. Perhaps it held the truth to mercy, the truth to reality.

The Inspector turned around, but there was no one behind him—only the figure of a person wrapped in a long coat, hurrying into the crowds.

As the sun's last rays disappeared from the horizon, Javert's hand slowly moved to caress the leather-bound Book.

"Law condemns a man to death

Strict, unbending will.

Through compassion men can live

Through the law fulfilled!

Where is pity in a King?

Pardon in our strife?

What is justice without love?

Mercy in a life!"

-I. Darling

…

Eponine entered the carriage. It had once been a fascinating object to her, but it seemed rather empty now. Azelma climbed in, her eyes wide with interest and excitement.

"Don't worry. The carriage won't bite!"

Her little sister laughed. "All the same, it seems rather dangerous to me!" She added slyly, "It would seem a lot safer with a gentleman to watch over us!"

Eponine's smile fell as she looked out the window to where a young man was standing. "Yes," she replied sadly, "I would've liked that."

The carriage began to slowly creak forward and the figure outside grew smaller and smaller. Azelma laughed delightedly, often giving remarks such as, "If only Gavroche could see us now!" or "Well! That old woman looks so tiny!"

Eponine remained silent until one of Azelma's remarks startled her: "Look, 'Ponine! Doesn't that man look familiar? What's he doing here?"

"What! Who?"

"Look for yourself," retorted the girl, smiling slightly.

It was Enjolras. "Wait!" cried Eponine. "Stop! Stop the coach!" The carriage creaked to a halt. The door opened and Eponine stepped out, looking at him in bewilderment.

"What are you… what are you doing here?" said she.

Enjolras laughed, just as breathless as she. "I realized something," said the young man quickly, "I realized that my love for the Patria is over, and there's no need to look for other revolutionaries anymore. France is changing—you can see it! People are already starting to protest out loud, and—"

"Enjolras!" interrupted the girl, smiling.

"What I wanted to say was this: would someone—that is to say, myself—be able to fill the role of Monsieur Marius in your life?"

"Would I be able to fill the role of your Patria, Monsieur?"

The smile was now shining on Enjolras' face as he answered without hesitation, "But you _are_ my Patria. And if ever I am called to fight for my country, I will fight for you."

Hand in hand, they walked into the carriage, with Azelma looking out the window, grinning from ear to ear.

**I'm not really pleased with that last part, but never mind! One more chapter coming up! I'll miss you guys. D: **


	18. And They All Lived--

**Well, here's the last chapter, folks. Thanks so much for all of the reviews I've gotten. You guys are the best. I hope you've enjoyed this story. I'll say it one more time: "Hope you enjoy!" **

Chapter Eighteen

Some stories are fairy tales with happy endings; others are tragedies, ending in sorrow, misery, and sometimes death. In some ways, this tale is a bit of both. It is a sad story that tells of men in battle, fighting for the poor with valiant hearts—but they fell, and both men and women lost their loved ones that fateful night.

But it is also a fairy tale, with princes fighting against evil and a tyrant who, in a way, learns what real justice truly is. It is a story of hope and a new dawn, a sun that rises when it seems that the night will never leave.

Valjean lived to see many happier days, no longer a slave to fear and doubt. There was no shadow haunting his steps. Nor was there a dreadful past hiding in the corner: Cosette and Marius learned of his history as both a miserable convict and a saint-like mayor—and the past was finally set free. Now the old gentleman with his hair of white looked to the days to come with joy and peace; and those days would bring both pain and happiness, as people in his life are taken away while little ones are born—he would live to feel the touch of a soft, little finger and to hear the music of a child's laughter.

Marius was finally reunited with his beloved Lark in a wonderful, white wedding. Perhaps as the years progressed he would learn that loving Cosette was not the only purpose to a happy, meaningful life; nevertheless, their love grew strong and unbreakable, molded by trials and joys.

Thenardier and his wife turned their backs to Paris with a shrug of the shoulders and a merry laugh; Calais, filled with rich gentlemen journeying from abroad and traveling Frenchmen, was the place for them. And it could be said that the choice was wise: the Thenardier inn prospered. Sometimes, good things happened to bad people. That saying is well-known, but when good things happen to bad people, those bad people either become better or worse. For the sake of having a happy ending, let us suggest the former…

What of little, merry Azelma? The Thenardiers never saw their little girl again, though once in a while, she found her way to the window of their inn and peeked inside. Enjolras offered her a better life, and in the company of a good sister and a kind gentleman, Azelma thrived. Enjolras's wish to see the beggars of the street living happy, healthy lives was at least satisfied with this.

Enjolras never forgot his beloved friends, his brothers of the revolution. He had fought alongside them for the people of France, but now, as he set up little soup shops for the hungry and provided shelters for the poor, he had something else to fight for: a family. Eponine always stood by his side, though difficult times and prosperous years. She was just as proud, just as headstrong as her husband; and as Enjolras devoted his life to serving, Eponine devoted her life to him. She was the strong foothold supporting him when he couldn't walk. But she was also the tender woman who always had gentle, comforting words for him when the day seemed merciless and dark.

Once Enjolras took his little growing family to England to visit Monsieur Marius. There was no awkwardness in the meeting; Enjolras smiled when he saw Eponine and Cosette talking to each other warmly. Little Gavroche, the proud son of the rebel leader, struck up a friendship with young, quiet Jean at once. It was a joyful reunion.

On the trip back home, Enjolras watched Eponine, who was leaning over the railing and looking up at the moon. She was still the same Eponine as before, who found it uncomfortable to sleep in a soft bed and ate only break and milk for supper. Her smile still seemed like sunshine, and her teasing laugh rang in his ear daily.

"Look at the moon, Enjolras," said Eponine as he approached her. "It reminds me of those days alone, when I sat in the rain with the stars."

"Do you ever think of Marius these days?" asked Enjolras, his voice teasing yet slightly strained.

Eponine heard it and laughed. "Yes, as the good friend who led me to you. But that is all. Those days are long forgotten, aren't they?"

"I suppose so," replied Enjolras.

"And now it's just us, Monsieur?"

"Now and forever," said he, laughing when he heard the last word. He put his arm around her shoulders, and together, they watched the smiling moon, bright and luminous, shimmering over the blue waters.

The END


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